


(bubbling up to the surface) i feel it within me

by RedLlamas



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dancing, Food, Love Confessions, M/M, Monster of the Week, Requited Love, sensory issues, sharing food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLlamas/pseuds/RedLlamas
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier go through a lot together, and Geralt always reflects on how much he loves Jaskier, until he accidentally reflects verbally.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 148





	(bubbling up to the surface) i feel it within me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chancy_Lurking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chancy_Lurking/gifts).



> Title from "[Cola](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hEkj95TXMU)" by Peter France
> 
> Thank you [Lotus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotus_Dumplings) for the beta!
> 
> Based on the tumblr prompt: _“Please don’t make me say it again.” Geraskier? 🥺_  
>  (Find me over on [egg2k16](https://egg2k16.tumblr.com/)!)

They’re huddled under the wooden roof of a shack that a woman is selling hot bread under. The rain is pouring hard against it. They see how the rain turns the road into a muddy ruin. The water splashes around, plants bend at their weight.

Jaskier points to a squirrel that’s sitting underneath a particularly large leaf, protecting it from the rain, and in doing so, accidentally flings his bread out into the rain. The three of them watch it fall into a particularly muddy patch. The rain quickly makes it soggy, and it starts to disintegrate underneath its weight.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, “My bread.”

Geralt sees the woman sigh, and chuckles to himself. He taps Jaskier’s arm, and hands him his own bread. Jaskier lights up at that, and keeps smiling as he takes a bite, moaning happily at the warm taste.

_ I love you _ , Geralt thinks.

He pays for both of their breads when the rain finally stops.

They’re in a clearing in the woods. It’s late at night, and the fire has started to die down. It’s not the steady fire it had been, but still alive.

Geralt had planned on staying awake, keeping guard. But his eyelids are so heavy now, his head keeps listing and jolting him back into wakefulness. He looks over at Jaskier across the fire, and he doesn’t seem to be faring any better.

Their eyes meet, and the fire crackles on.

Jaskier gets up, blearily reaches for his bag, and pulls his blanket out.

“‘M getting to bed now, Ger,” he announces, voice thick with sleepiness. Geralt nods.

“I’ll keep watch,” he says, and sees Jaskier weakly smile. Jaskier grabs his bag, and walks over to Geralt’s side. He squats by Geralt’s bag, and pulls out his blanket, which he gently throws over to him.

“Roach can keep guard, that lady never sleeps,” Jaskier says. He sits down next to Geralt, and pulls his bag to use as a makeshift pillow. Geralt watches as he makes himself comfortable, pulling the blanket up under his chin. He cracks his eyes open to look up at him, and pats the patch of dirt next to him.

Geralt makes his own makeshift pillow and lies down. He only pulls his blanket up to his midchest, but he feels Jaskier reach over to pull it up so that it also reaches his chin. Jaskier props himself up a bit to properly tuck the blanket around Geralt, and smiles at him when he finishes before plopping back down on the ground.

_ I love you _ , Geralt thinks before swiftly drifting off to sleep.

They’re at a half-rate inn, eating half-rate food, with a half-rate band playing up at the front. Geralt’s barely picked at his beans, because these beans aren’t good. Their texture...he’s eaten this type of bean before, but today, his body isn’t having any of it. The rice is fine, but a bit too wet for his tastes, and the meat is much too chewy.

Jaskier comes back with their beers, and starts off with, “Can you believe the talent they have playing?  _ Talent _ ,” he scoffs, shaking his head. When he sits down, he finally notices how disgusted Geralt is, and furrows his brow.

“Everything alright?”

“No.”

“For?”

“The food. I don’t like it.”

“I’ve seen you eat raw carcasses before.”

Geralt’s frown deepens. “Well today isn’t a day for that, then.”

Jaskier hums, purses his lips. He looks around the room, taps his hands against the table. He seems to find whatever he was looking for, and gets up to get it. Geralt watches as he weaves his way between the tables to finally stop at one. Jaskier seems to be talking to the couple sitting there, and they exchange a few words before Jaskier seems to be thanking them. He walks back to Geralt, newly acquired things in tow.

When he comes back, he sets a torn loaf of bread, few apples, and jerky on the table before them, along with an assortment of nuts. He snags a glass of water off the tray of a passing waiter, and waves him off as he sets it down on the table.

Geralt stares at him, trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. Jaskier merely grins at him, and flourishes his hand over the foodstuffs.

“Eat!” he says.

Geralt blinks, and looks back down to the food. It’s all...neutral. It’s basic food. No odd textures or tastes or anything. This is the driest assortment that’s available in the inn.

He looks back up at Jaskier, who has taken the plate with Geralt’s previous food, and placed it on his side. He picks at it with his fork, bringing the mushy beans and rice to his mouth. He takes a bite, and squinches his face at the taste.

“This really  _ is _ bad,” he announces. Geralt snaps out of his reverie, and takes a jerky, biting into it and relishing its saltiness.

“Why are you eating it, then?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier shrugs, then winks at him, a smile lighting up his face despite the clearly foul food still in his mouth.

_ I love you _ , Geralt thinks. He takes another bite, and knows that he’ll eventually share his small horde with Jaskier.

They’re in a swamp, with water up to their waists, and contending with an otyugh that has risen from its slumber. Geralt had warned Jaskier to not listen to the voice from deep in the woods, but that lovestruck fool had gone anyhow. Now they're in the territory of this creature, its two tentacles swiping through the air, sensory stalk quivering about, and Jaskier all but three feet away from it.

Jaskier looks like he’s struggling against its call, and when he opens his eyes to look at Geralt, he’s terrified. He’s clutching tightly to his lute, making a few of its strings twing. The otyugh stalks closer at its sound.

Geralt holds his sword steady before him, and quietly rounds the creature, doing his best not to disturb the water. He nods to Jaskier to get to the other side as he gets closer. Jaskier hurriedly nods, and wades away, but a high-rising mangrove root smacks against his lute. The strings sing loudly and markedly. The otyugh snarls, and starts to charge towards Jaskier. Jaskier yelps and tries to quiet his lute, but to no avail: he keeps making noise, and the otyugh gets closer and closer. Geralt groans, and tries to make noise on his side of the swamp to attract it, but Jaskier suddenly starts strumming his lute, and Geralt wants to  _ kill _ him, how can he not understand–?

Jaskier changes the tune from a fast-paced one to a softer one, and the otyugh...stops in its tracks? When Geralt cranes his neck to see, Jaskier’s face is pale white, his grip on his lute strong. His strumming hand trembles, and he opens his mouth to sing. His voice cracks on the first syllable, which disturbs the creature, but he somehow gets his nerves under control and softens his voice. The otyugh seems entranced, its tentacles swaying gently above its head.

Geralt waves at Jaskier to start wading away, and he nods, carefully making his way back to the edge. Jaskier doesn’t stop performing, though, his music bouncing oddly off the branches and roots in the swamp. Geralt swims towards the otyugh, and plunges his sword right through its body just as Jaskier’s song ends. Its squeal fills the swamp now, a sharp noise against the low backdrop of the ambient noises.

Later that evening, Geralt hands Jaskier a hot cup of tea. He’s wrapped up in their blankets, and had wet clothes switched out for dry ones. It’s less flashy than his usual wardrobe, but Geralt doesn’t think he cares about that now.

As Geralt takes a seat next to him on the dry ground, Jaskier takes a hesitant sip of his tea. He weakly smiles, and looks at Geralt.

“I don’t think I’ll play again, for a little while,” he says.

Geralt nods, and places a hand on his shoulder, squeezes it. “That’s alright,” he promises.

Jaskier gives him another small smile before getting back to his tea.

_ I love you _ , Geralt thinks, and thinks about buying a new studded jacket for Jaskier in whatever new town they come across. That might cheer him up.

They accidentally stumbled upon a town’s festival, and Jaskier looked at Geralt with big wide eyes, holding onto his sleeve intently.

Geralt sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles, and Jaskier happily pulls him into the festivities. They stop at various shops, looking at the collections and sundries. Jaskier buys a few gemstone necklaces, bracelets, pamphlets, snacks. Geralt lets himself get hauled around, lets Jaskier put flower crowns on his head, eats anything that Jaskier shoves into his hands.

Towards the late noon, Geralt finds Jaskier leaning against a stand. Geralt comes to stand next to him, and follows his gaze. He grins to himself. Jaskier is looking longingly at a quartet that’s been playing music for the entirety of the festival. Geralt had noticed that they kept switching out players as the day went on, and thinks that Jaskier had been waiting for a turn.

“Why don’t you go over?” Geralt suggests. Jaskier looks up at him, and shakes his head.

“Oh, no, no, that’s not, I’m, I wasn’t thinking about the band, I was just,” Jaskier says, trailing off. He looks off to the people still milling about, sharing food, dancing in the square.

“What is it?”

“I’m...embarrassed to say!” Jaskier says, looking back at Geralt. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but he’s trying so hard to keep a nonchalant air.

Geralt furrows his brow. What the hell? “What?”

Jaskier’s cheeks turn pink, and Geralt’s heart beats quicker. What could possibly be eating him up inside?

“Would you mind...if we danced?” Jaskier asks.

Oh.

“Oh,” Geralt says.

“See, it’s dumb, don’t worry, you’ve put up with me and the festival all day, I don’t want to push you into anything that you don’t want to do–” Jaskier says, rambling on. Geralt watches him get more obfuscated, and then reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping his verbal volley. Jaskier looks from his hand to his face.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Jaskier beams at that. He grabs the hand on his shoulder, and pulls them onto the courtyard, where they join the other dancers. Geralt isn’t used to this, but does his best to follow the others. Jaskier seems a natural, weaving between the other dancers as they move to the beat of the music.

The dance makes them switch partners every eight bars, and it takes a good while until Geralt and Jaskier face each other again. Geralt takes Jaskier’s hands in his, and interlaces their fingers as they move up, an arm over the head, their hands sliding down to their shoulders, whence they twirl in place.

Jaskier laughs, giddy with happiness, and Geralt’s entire body feels aglow.

_ I love you _ , he thinks, as he crosses arms with Jaskier again, spinning them around their own center point.

They’re next to a lake, sun high in the sky. Geralt is fishing, while Jaskier has decided to attend to Roach. Geralt smiles to himself as he hears Jaskier coo at her, and chuckles at his babytalk. He swings his line out again.

“We’re gonna get your coat nice and shiny again,” Jaskier promises. Geralt can hear the slosh of the soapy water as Jaskier wets his rag again. Geralt’s line moves in the water.

Roach whinnies. Geralt turns his head to see Jaskier brushing the excess water out of her coat with a thickly bristled brush. He then bends to the bucket to wet it, and grabs some of her mane, presses it against his hand as he brushes her hair with it.

“You’re so pretty,” Jaskier tells her, with a wide smile on his face. “I bet all the other horses think you are, too. You must be the envy of every town we visit, seeing as how you’re such a rugged warrior.”

Roach’s tail flicks out happily, and she snorts, dipping her head as if in affirmative. Jaskier chuckles at her, and presses a kiss to her neck.

“Do the other mares get jealous when they see you? Or what about stallions, is that attractive, for them?” Jaskier wonders, twirling the brush in his hand. “Oh! What if it’s the  _ mares _ that find it attractive? Do you have a lot of girlfriends, Roachy lady?”

Roach walks away a bit, flicking Jaskier with her tail as she does a slow spin. Jaskier just laughs at her, swatting her hind with the brush.

Geralt shakes his head, and gets back to fishing.

A few hours later, Geralt finally comes back to camp with a few fish on his hooks. He skins them, cooks them well, and serves them each a plate. Jaskier eats his filet with much relish, and when he finishes, he gets up to feed Roach. He pulls out a few apples from his bag, and smiles as Roach bites them out of his hand. He nuzzles her muzzle as she chews.

Geralt watches them a bit as he cleans their plates, dumping any leftover into the fire. He feels so content and satisfied in this moment.

“I love you,” he says, getting up from the fire to put away the plates and forks. He looks up at Jaskier when he feels his gaze on his back. “What?”

“What did you say?” Jaskier asks, hand still on Roach’s snout.

Geralt furrows his brow. He didn’t say anything, did he?

Roach flicks her gaze to him and snorts. He. No. Did?

Oh.

Oh no.

He did.

Geralt gets up quickly from where he was squatting. “Uh,” he says eloquently.

Jaskier’s eyes are wide, and he takes a tentative step to Geralt. Geralt’s surprised he didn’t take a step back himself.

“Geralt,” Jaskier begins, “Did you just say that you love me?”

“No,” Geralt says. “Yes,” he amends. He feels his face on fire, and fuck, what’s he supposed to do with his hands now?

“Really?” Jaskier asks, and hell, when did he get so close? Geralt looks into his bright blue eyes, full of happiness, and feels his heart tighten at the sight.

“Please don’t make me say it again,” Geralt asks. His heart’s beating much too fast right now, and he’s nearly feeling faint.

“Aww,” Jaskier coos, and shyly reaches for him. Seeing that Geralt hasn’t reacted in either way, he slowly wraps his arms around his torso, carefully laying his head against Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt’s hands jump up to wrap around him as well, holding him tightly. He can feel Jaskier’s smile against his shirt.

“I love you too,” he says, and Geralt melts.

“I love you,” Geralt says.

Roach whinnies as if in chime, and they both chuckle into their embrace.


End file.
